Today's Line

Certain things are definitive. They define someone or some situation.

A line in the sand.

These things mark where you are at this very point in your life. From here, you can't retrace the steps backward. Forward is your only direction.

But there is always that line. You can look back at it and remember being there.

Today I put an envelope in the mailbox. Inside was the notice to our current landlords that we will be moving out of our Wisconsin apartment within 60 days.

It feels like one of those definitive things.

A line in the sand.

Two Wheel Weekend

This morning I rolled up my sleeping bag and packed up my tent, then turned out onto the highway.

The weather was ideal, the road was a winding mountain pass and the scenery was amazing. Among the pine forests were a few trees changing color and the leaves they were losing blew across the road.

A day like this, I thought, was a day to be riding a motorcycle on these roads, in this weather, with this view.

Sometimes, I'm grateful to be able to roll the throttle.

The Balanced Diet

There seems to be perpetual dispute concerning exactly what constitutes a "balanced" diet.
When I was a kid, they taught me the 4 basic food groups. I don't even think those groups exist anymore.

Today, however it finally started to dawn on me that I usually eat a balanced diet without even being aware of it. It has to do with what I end up craving at any given time of the day.

Allow me to illustrate.

Sometimes, when it is time for me to eat lunch, I don't really feel like eating a greasy burger and fries (although, sometimes I do). Today, for example I stopped at Wendy's to eat a salad and a baked potato with a glass of water. This seemed like a pretty sensible, relatively healthy meal.
So, when it came time for me to eat supper tonight, there was an overwhelming urge to "balance" my diet. I did the only thing I could do.
I ate a triple bologna sandwich on soft white bread followed by two bowls of Trix cereal.

I am one with the universe.

Pallet Police

This is a pallet. A wooden pallet.

Some people call it a "skid".

There are millions...no billions of these all over the world.

A simple functional item born out of the necessity to move a pile of boxes, cartons, or whatever with the use of a forklift. (The wonders of the industrial age.)

As you look around you right now, wherever you are sitting, all the manufactured items you see, at one point probably travelled on a pallet.

This week, my brother was explaining that a pallet had been refused entry into our country by US Customs. They were requiring us to send this refugee pallet back to the foreign land from whence it came. This wooden pallet was shipped back at a cost of about $225.

Within a week or two, we receive another bill from overseas. They are now charging us $335. to dispose of said pallet.

Needless to say, it would have been better for us if this pallet had never been born.

First of all, I would assume that we have the technology in the US to properly dispose of a wooden pallet - especially with a budget of $335.

Maybe we should feel better that the trend has been a move toward plastic pallets. I guess filling landfills with non-organic plastic is somehow better, in the minds of some, than continued use of an organic renewable resource.

You can sleep well tonight - knowing that US Customs and Border Patrol, The TSA and Homeland Security are hard at work protecting America one pallet at a time. Once you allow one bad pallet into this country...well, who knows what could get in next?

Which Way To The OK?

Who might these dapper, well -armed gents be?

And what about the madam?

Since they were all seen lingering on the street of Tombstone Arizona not far from the OK Corral, my guess would be the brothers Earp - Morgan, Virgil and Wyatt, along with Doc Holliday (sporting a cane). The madam on Doc's arm would be Big Nose Kate.

I suppose they aren't actually those people...nevertheless, if your name happens to be Clanton or McLaurey... it might be a good idea to walk on the other side of the street.

Or get out of town altogether.

Down on the Farm

I've been living in Phoenix Arizona now off and on for about a year.

Last weekend, as I was back in the Midwest, I was reminded of some of the things that make these two parts of the country so different.

One morning, I took advantage of some early morning time to get breakfast in the local small town coffee shop in Wisconsin. The same small town where I grew up and lived most of my life.

While enjoying my breakfast, I was eavesdropping on a conversation between Dan, a local electrician, and Jeff, one of the local veterinarians. Dan was telling the story about the first time he was working out at Fred Howard's farm. Dan was doing some wiring in the barn when Fred came out and asked him what he was doing for lunch. Dan told Fred he brought a sack lunch with him in the truck. Fred walked over to Dan's truck and pulled the sack off the seat and opened it up. Fred took the sandwich and threw it to the pigs. Then, he took the apple and threw it to the pigs. Next, he walked over to Dan and said, "Now you're having lunch with us up at the house." Dan said it was like a Thanksgiving dinner. Every day he was working out there, they served him a meal like that. After listening, Jeff gave a knowing nod, indicating his own familiarity with the Howard's culinary generosity.

There were other stories - one about a goat and one about the guy who picks up all the dead livestock in the county - but this "lunch" story was the one I liked.

I can't help but think that we would all be a little better off if, from time to time, we threw someone's sandwich to the pigs and asked them to sit at our table.